Fighting Fires
by Questioning.Silence
Summary: Hiding and fighting can only take you so far. At this point, something's gotta give. Mal/Inara Post BDM
1. Chapter 1

"I'm sorry, Carl," she said softly, glancing away from the cortex screen.

He didn't appear surprised. "I never did think you'd say yes," he admitted, "but I had to try."

Inara resisted the desire to pick at the edge of her sleeve. Marriage proposals were, in general, rather embarrassing.

"Just… will you tell me why?" he asked, resigned.

She tilted her head back, allowing her eyes to wander around the shuttle she'd called home for so many months. "I belong here," she said simply after a long pause, "In the black. On this ship."

"I could buy you a ship." His eyes pleaded.

She shook her head gently, empathizing. "No, Carl."

"You've always been honest with me, Inara," he said.

She waited for the catch.

"But you're not right now. I just want to know why. You don't find me attractive enough…? Is it the money…?" He trailed off.

"No, no," she replied emphatically. He was right; she'd known him for too long to lie to him now. She sighed, rubbing her temples. "I'm… in love with someone else," she admitted. For a moment she paused, marveled at how it felt to finally admit it aloud. "And… it wouldn't be fair to either of us if I were to pretend."

"Ah," he said, leaning back, "I should have known, with you travelling to so many new worlds. Knew you'd find someone special."

She smiled pleasantly, hoping to drive the conversation to a close.

"He is wealthy?" Carl asked politely enough.

She couldn't hide her amusement. "No, no, uh, no. Not in the least." The image of a wealthy Mal required more imagination than she possessed.

He blinked, surprised by both the negative response and her reaction. "But, he is able to care for you?"

"He can barely care for himself," her smile faded slightly.

"But he's attractive, yes?"

She pursed her lips, "By whose definition?"

"Why, yours, dear lady."

"Pleasingly enough."

"And kind, I'm sure."

"Sometimes."

Carl paused, taken aback by her description. "Intelligent, then."

She tilted her head to the side as if weighing over the matter in her mind. "When he chooses to use it."

He stared at her through the cortex screen. She became aware, suddenly, of how bleak and unfavorable Mal must seem to a man like Carl. While she was scrambling for a proper response to move the conversation back on track, he spoke again.

"Well, dear lady, I must not rank very high in your esteem, if such a man has defeated my best attempts."

Her heart sank. This wasn't going well at all. "He has… different qualities than those you named." How to describe a man like Mal.

"I see." He appeared unconvinced.

"He isn't always kind, but he is usually very… good. He may not do the legal thing, but he almost always chooses what he thinks is… morally correct. He's… incredibly aggravating."

Carl said nothing. She fought back a blush as she realized the absurdity of her defending Mal to this man, a competitor, so to speak. And she wasn't doing a very good job of it at all, anyway.

"It's complicated," she managed.

"But he loves you," he said, almost as if pitied her and was trying to give her something to catch onto.

"I…" Could he love her? She was a companion, skilled in reading nuance. He was attracted to her, certainly. Some days it was rather vindicating to see. But love? "I don't know."

An awkward silence dragged on. They exchanged hasty pleasantries and she switched off the wave, perturbed by the sympathy and relief in his eyes as they concluded. Carl had probably realized that he was a fortunate man to have received her refusal. Something was certainly wrong with her.

Her shuttle was very silent in the absence of the wave. It lay heavy upon her ears. She swore viciously as an idea rose unbidden to her mind.

"If you're eavesdropping on me right now, Mal… I swear I will kill you."

Silence reigned. She sighed in relief.

Outside the door, Mal scarcely dared to breathe. Stupid, stupid, he cursed himself. He'd never meant to eavesdrop on her. This time, that was. He'd heard her shuttle dock and had come to check on her.

What he had intended to "check," he wasn't quite sure. But it was a good enough excuse for his own mind at the time. He could admit privately that it was not a particularly gentlemanly thing to have done, to have listened, but he'd wanted to see her.

So that was what she thought of him. He couldn't decide if he was pleased or not.

Attractive "enough". Define "enough".

"Aggravating." That one probably wasn't a compliment.

Neither were the aspersions she'd cast on his intelligence or his kindness. But she'd called him "good."

That was probably far more than he deserved.

And she had said she loved him. He'd carefully pushed that thought to the back of his mind, had focused on hearing the rest of their conversation. He'd known it before, more or less. They'd danced around the topic, always pushing, pulling, daring the other to make or break their quasi-relationship. He'd had the idea that she at least held affection for him.

But it was another thing entirely to hear the words spoken aloud, no qualms or qualifying stipulations.

Loved him. Stupid, selfish, broken man who still lived partly in a long gone war. A fight that she'd been on the other side of. She was a Companion, knew the difference between love and lust, real and imagined.

And she didn't know if he loved her back.

Of course he did.

The thoughts and emotions piled atop each other and flashed through his mind in moments, an impossible mess to untangle, difficult to even put images to, much less words.

Back in the room, Inara's vicious threat and succeeding breath of relief were barely seconds old. She had stood up absently, untwisting her hair from its updo, when she heard a tiny scuffing noise.

In the hall, Mal froze as his shoe scraped a ridge in the metal flooring. He glanced at the floor, glanced up, and she was there. She looked at him for no more than a second, betrayal and shock etched in her expression. Her dark eyes stared into his, stunned. Stepping back, she closed the door firmly and he heard the lock latch.

Mal found himself surprisingly… embarrassed. Remorseful. He never should have—this was an egregious breach of her privacy. He vividly recalled the hurt in her eyes. Squaring his shoulders, he knocked, intending to apologize profusely. It was a rare intention and he felt strangely satisfied with his decision.

She refused to open the door.

Inara, after locking her door, sank back against it. You little idiot, she berated herself, you idiot. He pounded on it again and called her name, waiting for several more minutes before giving up.

She rose to her feet, scanning her room for something made of glass. She wanted to throw something, and more than that, she wanted to hear it _shatter._

* * *

As dinnertime approached, Inara debated staying in her room. She alternatively considered arranging her hair, reapplying her makeup, and donning a more elegant dress than the one she currently wore.

She refused to indulge herself in any of those areas. Drawing herself up, she walked briskly and calmly to the table.

Inara didn't know it, but in her haughty calm, she drew all eyes. Any other night, her easy smiles and pleasant conversation made her one of the crew, made it seem as if she belonged amongst their number. Tonight, instead of putting the others at ease, she made no effort to join; she distanced herself. And the crew remembered, were surprised to remember, who she was and who they were. She was a lady, respectable. They were rim-world rabble.

Jayne couldn't take his gaze off her, chewing open-mouthed. Mal, across the table, refused to look at her at all. River's eyes flitted back and forth between the two of them. And Kaylee realize—not for the first time—how much Inara had breathed life into their mealtimes.

Finally, Zoe had had enough. Where the others were intimidated by Inara's fine, cold manner, she could read the hurt in her every movement. Zoe glared at Mal, who had yet to look up from his food. "Malcolm Reynolds," she said, threateningly, "What did you do?"

"Excuse me?"

She was in no mood for games, "What did you do?" she demanded.

"What makes you think," he said, swallowing a bite of the mushy protein that served as their food substitute, "that I did anythin'?"

"Mal!"

"Nothing!" interjected Inara, her voice strange and loud. "Nothing," she repeated in a more modulated voice.

Zoe shot her a look.

"Please," Inara asked her, "just…" she shook her head.

"You're okay?"

"I'll be fine."

"Why do you automatically assume it's my fault?" snapped Mal almost petulantly. He found himself embarrassed still, an emotion he did not enjoy and was unaccustomed to.

Zoe snorted, "You're a captain of an independent scavenger ship because no one else in the 'verse could deal with you on a regular basis, much less bear being answerable to your commands."

"But if you're considering changing careers," Inara, unable to resist, anger bleeding through her superficially honeyed voice, "you'd be a wonderful spy."

Mal met her eyes for the first time that evening, his expression unreadable, "Why? Because I'm good at ferreting out secrets?"

"Because you're shameless," she spat.

His grin was tight and angry, "Oh, you're one to talk… Registered _Companion_." He drew out the last word, fitting all the contempt he could muster into each syllable.

"And you're just above such… degradation," she responded coolly, eyes flashing.

"Well darlin'," he drawled. "I ain't the one selling myself to the highest bidder."

Simon stood up with his plate of food and discreetly tried to usher River from the room. She refused to move, but instead clutched the side of the table and watched the exchange with wide eyes. Simon got Kaylee's attention and the two of them fled.

"The only reason," she said flatly, "The business exists is because it's _profitable_. Because _men_ will pay. And then they have the _audacity_ to call the woman a whore."

"The whole thing is contemptible."

"Because Captain Reynolds would never," she drew out the words slowly, "sleep with a whore."

His whole face flushed as he grasped her meaning. "Nandi? You—that's not—" He stood up, furious.

"The same thing?" she mocked, sitting primly.

"It's not! She didn't—I didn't pay—"

"_Trade_. She considered it trade for you saving her girls."

"No! We were drinking, she—Wait," a smirk curled up his face, "This is you gettin' mad at me for sleepin' with your friend."

Zoe stood and gripped River's wrist firmly, leading her from the room and gesturing meaningfully for Jayne to do the same. He grudgingly complied.

Inara rose up as well. "You—This is about your _hypocrisy_! Your arrogance! Your—"

"Well now," he put his hands flat on the table and leaned forward on them, "Maybe I just have some… Different qualities than those you named."

She didn't fail to recognize her own words, confessed to Carl just hours before. Too angry to speak, she stared at him, at his smirking face, at his surety that the metaphorical tables had just been turned in his favor. Her heart pounded furiously, her blood rushing through her ears. She slapped him as hard as she could, open handed, across his face.

Astounded, he made no move to stop her.

Zoe heard the slap just as she reached the opening to the hallway. She turned.

Mal and Inara stared at each other across the table, equally shocked. After a moment, Inara turned away and walked unhurriedly back to her shuttle, hand stinging.

* * *

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you so much for reading/reviewing! I started responding to the reviews and then decided to update instead... But please know that they make my day._

* * *

Mal sat alone in the dining room, calmly finishing his meal, pretending as though the awkward solitude suited him quite well. There was a flushed, pinkish area on his cheek, showing where her palm had made contact with his skin.

Inara sat alone in her shuttle. She pushed back a curtain to look out the window, to the endless black beyond. She imagined herself outside, floating, flying, dying in the infinity of space.

The meal seemed to stick in Mal's throat. Each bite pained him to swallow. He cringed as his mind focused in loving detail on their recent screaming match. The things he'd said…

Inara had slapped him. She couldn't believe she had slapped him. She hadn't lost her temper like that since she'd been a child. She _slapped_ him.

The crew avoided him. He could hear them in the next room, talking, laughing. Zoe collected their plates, set them in the sink, and left again without a word to him. Like he was a child in a time-out.

It was so quiet in her shuttle. So still. She shut her eyes as she recalled the insults she'd flung. She and Mal had behaved like children, with no regard for the others' evening, for the others' feelings.

That insufferable woman.

That arrogant man.

He hated her.

She hated him.

He dropped his head into his hands, wondering when it exactly was that they'd spun so out of control.

When was it, she wondered, that they had last had a civil conversation, just the two of them?

He loved her. Her heart, generous and selfless. The way she talked… smiled… stood always amongst them. He frowned. Unsure, perhaps of her welcome, she always stood in the back. Apart. Why hadn't he realized this before?

She loved him. His heart, brave and caring. The way he risked everything for his crew, putting their needs above his own every time. She frowned. What did he consider her? She wasn't part of the crew, even as a small part of her longed very much to be.

He had a sudden mental image. Him, barging into her shuttle. Apologizing and meaning it. Sweeping her off her feet. Kissing her lips.

For just a moment, she considered seeking him out. Apologizing. Kissing him and meaning it. Never looking back.

He was kidding himself. She didn't belong here. Not with them. The bottom of the social pyramid. Poor. She was used to better. She deserved better. She'd never be happy here, and he'd do better to not forget that.

She was a fool to even think it. He had been careful to delineate between his crew and her. Like they were part of different social circles and he wanted to keep it that way.

If he barged into her shuttle they'd have another screaming match and he'd say more stupid things.

If she found him, they'd just fight again. She'd embarrass herself and lash out again. And they'd end up hurting each other all over again.

* * *

It was easy enough to ignore each other over the next few days. Inara kept mostly to her shuttle in general, and his duties as captain kept him busy around the ship. They barely had to play up those differences in order to scarcely see each other.

The hallways were a bit of a problem, however. It was rather difficult to ignore a person passing right beside you, only inches apart.

Inara rolled slowly off her bed. Skipping breakfast, she reflected, hadn't been her brightest idea. But it worked fairly well in her and Mal's dysfunctional system. He frequented the kitchen in the morning. If she avoided it until after noon, odds were she wouldn't have to meet up with him at all.

Except, that was, for her own personal brand of bad luck when it came to Mal Reynolds. She just couldn't catch a break.

As she walked quietly down to the kitchen, he appeared in the distance. She bit back a string of curse words and stared straight ahead. He appeared inclined to do the same thing, stoically marching down the hall. As if to a funeral, she noted, fighting a grimace that was equal parts confusion, amusement, and annoyance.

Twenty feet.

She bitterly resented the part of her that wanted him to say something, do something… _anything_.

Ten feet.

How did any one individual have the power to make her feel so many different emotions at once?

Five.

There was a muffled crash from below them. She froze, her eyes snapping to his at the same moment his own self-control broke. Then he brushed past her, leaping down the stairs to the source of the turmoil. She followed him.

Fire.

There was fire.

Inara blinked, surprised. The infirmary was on fire.

Mal moved coolly, pushing Simon out of the doorway, grabbing the extinguisher in its case by the door and dousing the flames. They sputtered and died. He pursed his lips, eyeing the burned area suspiciously, and judiciously gave it one more dose.

No one moved.

Simon, in shock, still lay where he had fallen. His eyebrows had been scorched off. A wisp of smoke emanated from the shoulder of his sweater. Kaylee sat beside him, equally astonished. Inara had not seen her arrive.

"You okay?" Mal demanded brusquely.

Simon nodded.

"What happened?"

"Isopropyl alcohol," he managed.

Mal raised an eyebrow.

"I spilled some. And I was sanitizing some of the implements," he gestured at a mess of metal tools now scattered on the ground, "With a flame and it just…" he flung out his hands as if to indicate an explosion.

"I see," said Mal, icily. "Get yourself cleaned up and come back here and take inventory on what's scorched."

Simon nodded, stumbled to his feet and limped off.

"That sounds fairly… contrived," Inara said without thinking, addressing Mal for the first time in days.

He stiffened, surprised to hear her voice. "He's lying. I think Kaylee was in there with him."

_Oh. _"Oh," she said lamely. That would explain why she hadn't seen Kaylee arrive. "You think…" She trailed off.

"Think they were messin' around in the infirmary, of all places," he scowled, not meeting her gaze as he perused the damage. "Gorram idiots."

"They're young," Inara responded flatly, letting the pent-up guilt and anger of the last few days bleed into her voice. She was suddenly glad he wasn't looking at her, couldn't see the irritation and embarrassment on her face as she bickered like she was spoiling for a fight.

"Doesn't give them the right to destroy my ship," he muttered back. Apparently, she needn't have worried. He wanted a fight same as she.

She needed to leave. She needed to walk away _immediately_ before more incredibly asinine comments found their way out of her mouth. For just a moment, she reflected on how far she had strayed from a Companion's graces. And it was all his fault.

Except for the part that was her fault. She walked away.

After a few moments of silence, Mal looked up. He watched her retreating figure, cursing them both.

* * *

"We'll be landing on Ios within the hour," Mal had made a point of knocking on her shuttle door.

"Okay," she'd responded flatly, hating the way her stomach jumped when he entered the room.

"Job'll take two to five days. Probly you should be back on in two days, so's that we can take off quick if we need."

She eyed him in the mirror as she braided up her hair. "I'm not sitting on this ship for three days."

He gritted his teeth, hating her beauty and her contempt in equal measure. "Well I'd hate to take off without you."

"I'm sure. Be a pity to lose your shuttle."

He opened his mouth to respond—unsure exactly what he intended to say—but the ship's alarm system cut him off.

Five minutes later, Inara stood coolly at the back of the bridge, glaring at the back of his doltish head.

It was perhaps a good thing that their recent argument had been interrupted by blaring alarms. It had been deteriorating rapidly, mostly because of his refusal to ever acknowledge his own emotions.

So he argued poorly, argued about the most trite aspects of anything and everything. He was trying to push her away, trying to restore his control of his own life. And if he thought for one moment that she didn't know exactly how he felt about her, he was an idiot.

Except he was an idiot. A foolish, noble idiot. So maybe he didn't know.

And maybe she didn't know, exactly. She was certain he fell somewhere between attraction and… something else.

She swore under her breath.

Mal could feel her eyes on the back of his neck.

Watching, always watching him. Everywhere, her dark eyes following him.

He cursed her, cursed himself. There was something about her that made a fool out of him. Something that brought out the worst actions, harshest remarks.

River was steering the ship, calmly despite the fire that had flashed from the left side of the ship upon atmospheric entrance.

Mal turned around, "Everybody grab onto something," he warned. "This is about to get bumpy."

And in turning he saw her face, half-hidden by the dim lights as Kaylee cut extraneous uses of power and directed them toward the engines. Her eyes still challenged him, her expression impassive.

Stubborn woman. He had his pick of thirty different moons, could have fallen in love with anyone else. But no. There was something about Inara Serra that had well and truly bewitched him.

"Captain Mal?" called River absently, hands flitting from one control to the next. "You need to leave."

Mal's head snapped up, more confused than annoyed. "What?"

"I can't focus with you..." she waved a hand generically, "thinking." She hadn't bothered to look up. "I've already miscalculated the trajectory twice."

For a moment, Mal seemed to forget who he was dealing with. "This is my ship!" he exclaimed, outraged.

"Well it's about to be no one's," she scowled and yanked the steering column down in barely enough time to avoid the looming cliff before them.

"I don't see—" he began hotly before she cut him off.

"Inara, Inara, Inara," she said crossly, turning a hard right and sending Mal stumbling across the deck, "Don't you ever think of anything else?"

He appeared to choke on her words, opening his mouth but unable to speak anything coherent. He managed finally to scoff, "I—what?"

"And you," River arched her arm behind her back to point unerringly at Inara, "are not any better," she continued bad-temperedly. "You leave too," she commanded, still without looking away from the controls as she opened the throttle to its maximum acceleration.

Inara, upon the first mention of her name, had glanced up in surprise. And when River directed the scolding at her, she froze, impassive. Her eyes coolly noted Zoe's raised eyebrows, Simon's repressed smirk… Jayne just looked confused, as usual. She suddenly found herself incapable of looking in Mal's direction. Inara had enough training to recognize a lost cause, and given events of the past few days, she was developing a distinct distaste of absurd situations. Nodding her head slightly, politely, she left before more damage could be done.

Mal did not have such tact. Furthermore, he stood right behind the controls, whereas Inara had been standing nearly at the door. He had more ground to cover, more dignity to lose.

"Don't be ridiculous, River," he finally managed.

"Leave," she said firmly. "Or else."

He eyed her warily.

"Last warning, Captain."

He left.

Inara stood on the main walkway, arms on the railings as she stared blankly down at the cargo bay. He hadn't realized how… fragile she looked. Small. He shook his head and went to stand beside her.

She didn't acknowledge his presence.

"How 'bout," he said, "If we radio you, can you be on the ship within the hour?"

"No."

She was so damn stubborn.

"But," she continued, "I could do it with two hours. I could also meet you in the air someplace."

"'K. That'll do."

She said nothing.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said without warmth.

"Inara," he whispered.

Her eyes closed but she didn't move.

"I…" I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. It's just that I can't think straight when you're in a room with me. "Travel safe."

"You as well." Please be careful. Please.


	3. Chapter 3

_I'm going to have sporadic Internet access for the next month or so. Still, I'll update about once a week until finished. Expect 6 chapters._

* * *

The florescent lighting of the infirmary stabbed directly into Mal's eyes. He shut them tightly and dug his teeth into the side of his cheek as pain exploded in his abdomen. He hissed and grasped at one of the metal rods that made up the bed upon which he lay.

Simon paused to wipe sweat off his own brow with the back of his wrist, tormented by his imagination, by his guilt.

It had just been for fun, Kaylee chatting with him in the infirmary as he cleaned up. And chatting turned to flirting, and flirting to kissing until he'd backed her into the medicine cabinet with much more force than he'd intended. Chemicals exploded. And in one motion, they'd wiped out their entire supply of major pain killers and anesthetics.

As gently as possible, he probed the twisted, bloody mess that was the side of Mal's torso, searching for the shotgun pellets that had turned smooth skin and muscle into a writhing mass of agony.

He truly felt terrible. However, a tiny part of him cursed Mal's own idiocy. How did the man get himself shot so often?

Though the majority of the crew stood in and around the infirmary, Mal's ragged, shallow breathing was the only audible noise. Kaylee was biting a knuckle, silently crying as she stared through a window. Zoe stood, impassive, just inside the door. Jayne was pacing outside in the hallway.

Mal couldn't focus, could barely breathe. He'd faced pain far worse before, but that had been with adrenaline coursing through his system, with a purpose and a mission and people to protect. Now he could only lay here, face twisted in agony, with access to only the mildest pain killer. He should perhaps have restocked the infirmary at their last, brief stop at the refueling station, but the coil compressor, Kaylee assured him, was about to give out. He grabbed at the cool metal railing again, squeezing it, trying to prevent his body from arching up in pain.

And then cool hands grasped his own, tightly, covering his one hand with both of her own.

He didn't need to pry open his eyes, to glimpse the black curls, to know whose hands they were.

Inara knelt beside the sickbed, used a corner of his own pillowcase to wipe some of the blood and sweat from his face. She looked only at his face, couldn't bear to see the ugly wound in his side.

He hissed as one of Simon's metal implements dug deep into his flesh, gripping her hand now in place of the bar. He groaned and Simon flinched.

"Stop that, Mal," Inara scolded him reflexively. "You're making him nervous."

Across the room, Zoe's eyebrow contracted in irritation at the callousness of the command. Mal cracked open his eyelids, glaring at her. "I'm making… _him_… nervous?" he hissed out furiously, but did not let go of her hands.

"Don't talk," Simon said shortly.

"The way you're carrying on," continued Inara, "someone would think you were getting a limb hacked off." Her heart pounded in her chest.

He glared mutely.

"Really, Mal," she said, shaking her head, "You were the idiot who came up with this plan. When do your ideas ever work?"

His glare faded and his face went slack as Simon clamped down on a pellet and pulled it out. He clutched her hands with all his strength.

"Ow," she snapped a moment later, when he began again to breathe. "Don't squeeze my hands so tightly. It hurts."

His eyes snapped all the way open this time, outraged. She barely bit back a grin of triumph.

"Yeah, you heard me," she replied.

"You..." he choked out.

"Don't talk," murmured Simon.

"You know," continued Inara conversationally, "There was a time before anesthetic was even invented. But of course you wouldn't know that," she said mockingly.

His eyes narrowed, closed for a second as his head rocked back in a wave of pain.

"Back on Earth-that-was. Soldiers bit bullets during surgeries. Perhaps if you bit on one, you'd act a little more manly."

His hand relaxed in hers, and then renewed its tight grip a moment later.

"You know what else they did? They were smart enough not to stand in front of maniacs with shotguns. Pity such intelligence wasn't passed to you," she said scathingly, her voice becoming more and more insulting the longer his eyes remained closed. They finally opened, and her heart began to beat again.

"I think I got everything," Simon interrupted her lecture as he set down his tools. "Now I just have to patch him up."

"Or maybe their egos were just smaller," she continued as though he hadn't spoken. "Regardless, you might learn from them. But no, instead you've pursued a life of petty thievery. You're not even very good at it, you know? I have yet to see you successfully accomplish two jobs in a row. It's a little pathetic."

Mal stared into her eyes, breathing shallowly, gripping her hand with everything he had left in him.

"I couldn't figure out why you were such a bad thief. Then I realized it's because you want me."

He stopped breathing; whether it was from the pain or her words she didn't know. A choked scream seemed to stick in his throat, and she turned to see Simon pouring antiseptic into his torn side. The liquid hissed. A wave of dizziness passed over her and she refocused on Mal's face, talking rapidly.

"You want to have me here, in your shuttle. If you were successful, you wouldn't have to rent it out and so you wouldn't have an excuse to keep me onboard." She desperately looked for more cutting insults, but came up with nothing so she continued to ramble. "No, you pretend to hate me and call me 'whore'—you're a contemptible little man, do you know that—but really, you just can't let me go."

She smirked with amusement she didn't feel. He looked so very wretched. She risked a glance down toward his abdomen. The gaping mess of bloodied flesh was slowly shrinking as Simon stitched and cut.

Inara didn't remember what she said for the next ten minutes, though she spoke constantly. His eyes sometimes found hers, drinking in her face, scowling at her insults. He squeezed her hand so tightly that she herself wanted to cry out in pain. Finally he closed his eyes, stopped moving, and it was only his constant pulse in the hollow of his thumb that kept her going as she stared at his unconscious face.

"Done," said Simon finally, a few minutes later. He stumbled a little bit, his own muscles tense and locked.

Inara looked back to Mal's face, finally peaceful. Slowly, gently, she pried her fingers out of his grip, setting his hand on his chest. She stood up, not realizing the pain in her knees until that moment. Feeling stung its way back into her numbed calves and feet as she looked at him, at the blood and sweat and dirt smeared into his skin and clothing. She rubbed her hands together, smoothing out the pain of his tight hold.

What a man to love.

She left the infirmary, walking past the people she had forgotten were there, and returned to her shuttle.

The crew watched her go.

Zoe shook her head. "I haven't had the easiest life," she said quietly, "But at least I never did have the misfortune of falling in love with Mal Reynolds."

Jayne's mouth opened, "You reckon _that's_ what this," he gestured at Mal, "was about? Don't look like she loved him t' me."

Zoe rolled her eyes.

* * *

"Hey," Zoe said gently, several hours later, knocking on Inara's open door to let the other woman know of her presence. She received no response. The shuttle appeared empty.

Frowning, she stepped further inside, eyes wandering over the luxurious furnishings. It was surprisingly… modest, she realized, for someone in Inara's position. That being said, it was also one of the more beautiful rooms she had ever seen.

"Yes?" Inara asked calmly.

Zoe repressed a flinch, feeling like a snoop. Inara stood in the doorway, one eyebrow raised. Her face was pale, and her eyes were red but dry.

"He's been calling for you."

"Awake?" Inara asked listlessly.

"Not really."

"Then he won't know that I'm not there." There was something dead in her eyes.

"You've changed," said Zoe softly, "since you boarded this ship."

Inara didn't respond. Zoe quietly left.

It was gone, Inara, realized. The sense of resentment, of residual fury that had tinged every thought of him in the last few days had simply evaporated.

And she wanted it back.

Because as much as it stung, it didn't hurt as badly as the memory of him, lying there under the artificial lights, staring at her through pain-fogged eyes as though she was the only thing he could see.

And Inara preferred righteous anger to heart wrenching agony any day.


	4. Chapter 4

_Thank you very much for the feedback. It very much influenced the way I wrote this chapter. _

* * *

It was late.

The ship had quieted as the crew settled uneasily in their bunks for the night. Simon, exhausted and still guilt-ridden, had fallen into sleep atop the other infirmary bed, listening to Mal's restless slumber.

Inara padded silently, barefoot, along the walkways of the ship, and stopped in the doorway of the infirmary.

Mal's head jerked from side to side, his conscious lost in the power of his feverish mind. Flames twisted into faces, coalesced as stars, and then faded into blackness. He dreamed of the exploding shells of long-forgotten wars, dreamed that one hit his side and erupted into pain, and woke up to find it true before lapsing back into nothingness and fire.

Casting a sideways glance at Simon's sleeping form, Inara made it to Mal's side, resisted the urge to brush his hair back off his face. He needed a good haircut, she noted absently.

She wanted him to wake up, wanted it so badly that it made her chest ache. She wanted him to open his eyes and say something stupid or bossy or businesslike. She wanted him to look at her and smile, the kind of smile that usually meant he was up to something she wouldn't like. She wanted to understand what it was about this man that kept her on this ship, watching him, fearing for him, waiting…

But waiting for what? For him to sweep her off her feet, to ride into the sunset? She shook her head, tried to clear her mind, scolded herself with contempt. Waiting for a fairytale.

And instead he lay here, broken and feverish. She wanted him to wake up.

"I hate you," was all she managed to say, her voice choked and breathless.

"'Nara," he murmured, whether awake or asleep she couldn't tell.

She lay one hand on his forehead, felt his burning skin. Minutes passed. "I lied," she admitted softly. I could never hate you. "Please don't…" Her throat closed around _die_ and she stopped speaking. She stepped back and let her hand fall away, then returned to her shuttle, feeling incredibly stupid.

Simon, always a light sleeper, kept his eyes discreetly closed.

The next day they landed on a backwater moon. The prices on the medicines, on antibiotics and anesthetics, cost far too much for the crew to afford. When Inara pressed coins and credits into Zoe's hand, Zoe surprised the both of them by not arguing. She bought the medicines.

Then he slept well, and the fever faded away. When he woke, his dreams had twisted with reality until he was no longer certain what was real and what was not.

* * *

A steady stream of cursing poured from the dimly-lit infirmary.

Inara knew she should stay far away, knew that interfering in the current state of events was a foolhardy course of action that could never end well.

She stepped through the infirmary doors anyway. Mal stared shocked, suddenly fully aware of his disheveled state. He'd not expected her to be the one to find him. His dreams flashed back into his mind, waking and sleeping moments twisted and blurred by the pain. He blinked several times before regaining his focus.

"Inara!" he hissed, "Get me _out_."

He lay twisted across the hospital bed, seemingly straining to move but pinned in place. She stared incredulously, understanding slowly coming to her expression.

"They… They tied you to the bed…" she murmured, astonished, and began to laugh helplessly.

He scowled. "Not funny."

Her stress and the pain of the last few days seemed to melt away at the renewal of his bad temper. Her heart gave a funny sort of flutter. Nevertheless, she covered her mouth and attempted to restore her composure. "Oh but it is! This is _perfect_. Malcolm Reynolds defeated at long last."

There was justice in this, she decided, as he refused to respond.

"Let me guess," she continued, delighted, "Zoe decided you weren't recovered enough for the job?"

He shot her another dirty look, "I'm _fine_." He spat.

"Uh-huh," she replied pleasantly, seating herself on the edge of his bed.

"What?" he growled as she watched him.

"Nothing," she said, lips curling into a smug smile, "I'm just enjoying the circumstances."

He couldn't help but smile back.

Slowly, the silence became awkward. Mal could think of nothing to say, no innocuous remark to alleviate the tension. It was obvious that Inara felt equally tongue-tied, a fact that he marveled at.

Her eyes flickered to his lips. He cursed the rope binding him down. One hand caressed his cheek. She placed the other hand beside his head, palm down, to brace herself up if she leaned in to kiss him.

If.

There was a clatter of footsteps outside. Inara drew back as if stung. The footsteps continued on but the moment was past.

"Uh—"

"Well—"

They both stopped. Inara looked away.

"What now?" he asked, bluntly. "I don't know that I can take any more of this beatin' 'round the bush."

There was another long, painful pause. She was astonished that he said something. For just a moment she saw the two of them, saw a future, and then the image vanished and she found herself landing back in reality with a jarring thud. To imagine that happiness could come of a relationship between the two of them was unparalleled idiocy, she decided. Her own issues aside, he was too guarded to share anything of himself with another. They would crash and burn, metaphorically, and so would the crew.

"Nothing," she said, shrugging, her own disappointment and pain making her callous, "I mean, there's nothing to be done. I have my job and you have yours." But she couldn't look at him, nor could she banish the sick feeling that gripped her entirely.

Job. Her job. Mal noted absently, surprised, that it was really quite possible to feel as though you'd had the wind knocked out of you, even if you hadn't been touched physically. This might have been easier, he reflected, if he weren't tied to the bed in such an awkward position "How," he managed to ask with a surprisingly even tone, "can you bring yourself to… I mean they…"

"My clients?" she asked calmly, almost haughtily, "It's my job. A job that—may I remind you—was my choice to pursue long before you came, and that I will still be doing long after I've left the _Serenity_."

She glanced up at him, met his gaze. Her throat tightened at the expression on his face. It was blank, frozen, and she realized that she had perhaps finally managed to really hurt him, to break whatever they had between them.

Suddenly, she understood. Understood _exactly_ why he insulted her, why every peaceful or civil conversation between the two of them ended in fury and hurt.

"So what're you doin' here, then?" he asked tightly, "Just messin' me around? S'pose it don't mean anything to a whore."

She walked away, understanding him entirely. It was ever so much safer this way, to push her away, to drive them apart.

To prevent heartbreak.

But, her breath caught at the sudden, stunning realization, her best attempts to shield herself, her pride, her hopes, had failed miserably.

Because she realized, fighting back sudden tears, it could never get worse than this empty, painful, twisting fear, after all.

It was the concept of all-or-nothing, she realized, that made them push each other away. Inara, afraid of risking all and ending up with nothing, had refused to choose anything. And so she'd risked nothing and found nothing and it was over.

This wasn't fair to her or Mal or the crew. She would have to leave the ship. And soon.

* * *

"Well. _Captain_ Mal Reynolds," Peder smiled superciliously, his lazy eye wandering off to stare at something out of range of the cortex screen. "Has it really been so long?"

"Five years is it?" Mal noted neutrally, hiding his distaste in his businesslike manner.

"Six-and-a-_half _long years," he replied sweetly, lightly, "I became a successful merchant. Well-liked and respected."

"'S good to hear," Mal cut him off, "You contacted me about a job?"

River shifted in her seat, fingers itching at the controls, ready to propel the ship into deep space at Mal's slightest hint. Zoe stood behind, arms crossed, watching the cortex through heavily-lidded eyes.

Peder attempted to focus both eyes on the screen, clearly annoyed by the interruptions, "In good time," he snapped, and then reassumed his obsequious manner. "Like I said, a successful merchant. But then my shipments begin to fall off the face of the planet. Attacks, brutal and without warning

And then what do I hear?" He simpered, "I hear that my old _dear_ friend is the man responsible!" He flaunted his outrage.

There was something about the man's manner, something deadly behind the blustering, that kept Kaylee watching from the back of the bridge deck, grateful for the pressure of Simon's arms encircling her. Jayne was picking his teeth with one hand while resting his other around the trigger guard of the pistol at his belt.

Mal ground his teeth together and Zoe stepped forward to lay a hand on his arm. "Your old, dear friend?" He asked quietly, "The one you abandoned and turned traitor against at the battle of Serenity, six and a half _short_ years ago?"

"Ah," Peder shook his head sadly, "You blame me for your loss. Regrettable, but hardly accurate."

"You gave them our coordinates."

He tsked softly. "You just can't let things go, can you, Mal? Is that what this is? Revenge?"

"Captain Mal," River warned quietly, catching something he did not.

Mal quieted her with a cautionary hand on her shoulder. She threw her body back into the seat, arms wound tightly together and head tucked into her chest. He didn't have time to wonder why. "It's a job," he spat, "One that I'd be happy to take again."

That was a lie. He never would have provoked such a dangerous little snake as Peder if they hadn't desperately needed the cash.

"No," said Peder, a glint in his eye, "You won't."

Uneasiness twisted in Mal's gut.

"You see," he continued, "I didn't get to where I am today by allowing just anyone to double-cross me. Like you permitted me," he smirked. "You're an idiot, Mal. You trust in humanity a little too much."

Mal said nothing. No one in the bridge made a sound, but Peder's gleeful darkness sent shivers down Kaylee's spine. She stepped back, pressing herself against Simon.

Peder's lazy left eye, as wandering as ever, was more than compensated for by his sharp right eye. "Little Kaylee," he moved closer to his screen and his face grew large in theirs. "Are you afraid of me?"

She froze, panicked.

"Well don't be," his voice was soothing. "And Zoe, as beautiful as ever," he inclined his head to her but she only stared back. "I know all of you so well. You've become very dear to me over the last few weeks as my men have followed you all around this humble little planet. I even ordered some strawberries for you. They should arrive in the next day or two."

Mal was suddenly glad that Inara, at least, was out with a client, someplace safe from this man's lecherous eyes. Overcoming his prior unease as Peder rambled on, he began to formulate a contemptuous response.

Peder cut him off, "No, no, don't interrupt. You must allow me to meet the others. You" he pointed delicately behind Kaylee, "must be Kaylee's lover, Simon. And River," he smiled, impressed, "You are quite the young woman, aren't you?"

River ignored him, poking buttons on the dash and picking up the transmitter. Mal repressed a sigh. What a day to act up. He gently moved her hands from the control panel, but she glared viciously, "I can do it!" she snapped. He pulled his hands back, hoping she wouldn't blow anything up.

Peder smiled, eyes lighting up. Mal remembered how handsome he'd been in the early months of the war, with his golden hair and bright green eyes. Now his left eye was worse than before and a thick scar ran laterally across his cheeks and nose. His greasy hair was long and unkempt.

"But don't worry!" Peder said magnanimously, pulling Mal from his memories, "I have no intentions to hurt any of you. After all, none of this is your fault. You follow your captain. You… respect him.

"I did, once, too. I can't hurt you for merely repeating my own youthful folly," Peder's eyes were cold, now, and his light manner had fizzled away. "Well, I can't hurt _most _of you, that is.

"Do you want to know what I'm going to do, Mal, to see that you never do something so stupid again?"

"Not really," Mal said, but Peder ignored him, unadulterated hatred in his gaze.

"I'm going to kill the woman you love."

Mal stopped. Time froze.

"Mal," murmured River urgently, but he brushed her off.

"If you hurt her—" he choked out involuntarily, then spun on his heel, instinctive. He'd take the other shuttle, he'd… Before he'd taken two steps, Inara appeared in the doorway, impeccable and unconcerned. He stared for the space of a heartbeat, noting her black curls, perfect blue dress, and mild curiosity in her eyes. He turned back around, confused.

Peder noted the expression on his face and began to laugh riotously, "The _Companion_?" he gasped, doubled over in his glee, "A _Companion_… Oh Mal, you _would_."

Zoe reached up and flicked the cortex off. They stood in stunned silence.

"Inara, have you eaten anything since you left the ship?" Mal demanded rather accusingly.

She blinked, "I was gone for two days. So… yes."

"Simon! Test her for poisonous substances."

"It was a bluff, Mal," Zoe said before anyone could move, "He was fishing for information. He laughed when you reacted like you did."

"You're right," he said finally, "He didn't know. Simon, test the other women as well."

"Mal!" snapped Inara, but he ignored her.

"No telling what a psycho like that thinks. River, get us out of here."

"Can't."

"What?!"

"Not enough fuel to make the next stop."

"You're wrong."

"No," she said confidently.

"Well why didn't you tell me?"

"Tried. You didn't listen."

He knew the truth of her words but it didn't make him any happier. "You," he snapped pugnaciously at Inara, "Stay in your shuttle. After you get checked by Simon." He turned back to River, "Get us to the refueling station." He stalked off.

"What happened?" Inara asked the others with quiet intensity.

Kaylee looked at her with something close to pity. "Peder threatened… you."

There was clearly more to it, but Kaylee's face warned Inara not to ask.

* * *

Stupid. Stupid. Malcolm Reynolds was stupid.

He resisted the urge to punch the wall. If he broke something, they were a good long way from civilization. Well, acceptable civilization. Peder's planet was only a few clicks back. They'd filled the ship at the refueling station and high-tailed it out as fast as possible.

He'd played into Peder's hand, panicking like that, exposing Inara. Now traitorous moron actually had a concrete target to hurt.

And he was in the business of hurting people, Mal remembered with contempt, remembered why the very sight of Peder made his blood boil.

Then, as the memory sunk in, the blood drained from his face.

He ran.

* * *

Inara sat discontentedly on her couch, staring at the wall. She felt remarkably… apathetic. Pouring herself some tea, she looked at it with sudden distaste.

Rapid footsteps sounded in the hallway. Mal burst through her shuttle doorway. "You gotta get out of here!"

Inara looked up at him standing above her, flushed, afraid. She didn't remember an expression like that on his face ever before. She could only stare, senseless.

He grabbed her arm and yanked, pulling her off the couch.

Angry at the pain, she threw off his hand, "Ow, Mal, you son of a—"

"There's a bomb!" he snapped.

Her eyes widened and she ran with him, hurrying into the hall outside her shuttle and watching as he sealed the door.

Nothing.

They faced the door, breathing heavily.

Nothing. No muffled explosion, no flames, no rattling of the double-strength doors.

"Well that was… anticlimactic," Inara murmured.

They waited for several more minutes. As the adrenaline faded from her body, she leaned against the side of the ship, acutely aware of his presence by her side.

"Why did you think there was a bomb?" she asked as patiently as she could.

"'Cause I know Peder," Mal replied grimly.

"Melodramatic ambiguity aside, why did you think there was a bomb?"

"Big words," he avoided her question.

"Mal!"

He stared at her for a long moment, and she was suddenly sorry she'd asked. "He likes bombs," Mal replied bleakly, "After we realized that he'd betrayed our position to Alliance forces, we… well, we searched his sleepin' area. Not 'we' I guess. I… sent a private. He never came back."

"Mal, I—"

But he wasn't listening, "He had a young, pregnant wife back home. I was the one to tell her." He looked at her stricken face. "Don't go back in there, 'kay?"

After he had left, Inara sunk down with her back against the wall, sitting on the floor. She dropped her head into her hands and tried to avoid any type of thinking whatsoever. It hurt too much.


	5. Chapter 5

_One more chapter to go after this. Thanks for sticking around, and thanks so much to reviewers: I really really appreciate it._

* * *

Two days passed. Inara slept in a passenger bunk, growing more irritable as the hours drug on. It was awkward sitting down in the austere white room, uncomfortable wearing the same dress for two days in a row. No books. No cortex. No tea. She wanted a shower. She wanted her shuttle.

She took to wandering the halls of the ship, fingertips trailing along the railings and walls. Twice she made meals. She even offered to do all the dishes: anything to liven up the empty hours the crew spent on duty. Kaylee found it great fun to have Inara more present in their conversations and life, and even River seemed pleased. Zoe and Simon seemed not to care one way or another, though Zoe began to spend more time with the others and less on her own. Inara avoided Mal.

As the third day passed, Inara would have gladly paid for a simple change of clothes. Zoe was closer to her size than the other woman, but she didn't quite feel up to the task of asking. Kaylee and River were both smaller than Inara, River even more so than Kaylee.

More than once, she passed by her shuttle, desperately desiring to open it. Pressing her palms flat on the metal handle, fingering the lock mechanism, the only thing that stopped her from whipping open the doors was the look that had been in Mal's eyes, that hopeless and dead look that had burned itself into her brain.

She would have dismissed this whole affair as an elaborate plot on Mal's part to prevent her from contracting with a client if not for that expression of his.

As it was, she had to admit that she didn't mind. The last time she'd had a client had been… challenging. Even more so to return to Mal's panicked gaze and that slimy Peder.

The third evening, as she reentered her temporary quarters, she found a change of clothes lying on the bed: a pair of black pants and a loose white shirt. They were worn but clean and neatly folded. The pants, at least, she recognized as Zoe's. Maybe the other woman cared about her after all.

Or maybe, after three days, Inara just stunk, and this was the polite way to alleviate that.

She slipped gratefully into the clean clothes, then washed her face and pulled back her hair.

* * *

Inara may have avoided Mal, but not enough for his taste. She was always around, wandering the hallways of his ship like a lost ghost. In the cargo bay, a glance into the balcony revealed her watching him. In the kitchen. She sat in the bridge when he wasn't busy there. One unfortunate evening, he'd found her watching the stars.

He still remembered her voice, the soft touch of her hands on his as the doctor pried the metal shrapnel from his abdomen. She had said something, he remembered, or possibly many somethings. All he recalled clearly were his hands wrapped around his and her voice, like music, lifting him up. Or maybe it was all a product of his fevered dreams.

And she would never choose him. Had, in fact, already chosen not to choose him. Her job, her lifestyle, her prestige and security. How could a woman give up those things for a man like him? His chest tightened and he resented her.

Mal almost didn't recognize Inara at dinner that night. Hair back, no makeup, simple clothes he recognized as belonging to Zoe.

"Here," Inara smiled, handing him the stack of plates she'd brought from the counter. He froze, staring, cursing to himself.

She was still perfect. Still beautiful. Not dressed as a companion: no fancy dress, expensive jewelry, careful makeup. It was a sickening punch to the gut and he could not help but stare helplessly. Part of him, he realized suddenly, had dismissed the intensity of his feelings for her as lust, as the product of the glamor that her wealth and respectability and beautiful clothing granted her.

But he hadn't. He'd fallen in love with the real woman, whole and perfect. And he wasn't going to get over that anytime soon. Yet, she apparently already had gotten over him. So much for love.

"Mal?" she asked in concern, tilting her head to look him in the eye. "Are you alright? You don't look well."

He blinked, hating himself, hating the thoughts and hopes that swam through his mind, "Oh, nothin'. Just never thought I'd see you in anythin' other than a dress."

She raised an eyebrow as she set down the plates, "Well, all things considered…" And she trailed off, amused, as though it were an inside joke they shared.

Putting him at ease, Mal realized, like she was trained. He shrugged, purposely casual, hiding his anger, "It's jus' different. You look exactly like the rest of us without all your makeup an' fancy dress. Not so beautiful anymore," he said absently, dishing himself a plate and chowing down without looking up.

Inara blinked, stung, then quietly sat down with her own plate.

"Mal!" exclaimed Kaylee, outraged for Inara's sake although he'd insulted them all with that comment.

Inara ate without comment. Was it too much to ask, she wondered, for him to think she was beautiful without artifice? Apparently. For someone who had never considered herself particularly vain, it hurt more than it should have.

Mal finished first, dropping his plate in the sink and walking straight out the door.

Zoe cleared her throat, "What are you going to do about this?" she asked quietly.

Inara didn't play dumb. "I'm going to leave," she said, surprising herself by the strength of her own voice.

"'Nara!" wailed Kaylee.

"Please don't argue, _mei mei_," she said gently, "but it's not good for any of us—yourselves included—if I stay."

Zoe frowned but didn't argue. What was there to say?

* * *

River was pounding on the door. Hard. There was a time that Mal might have opened it to her.

"It's jagged!" she snapped.

He remained seated in the bridge deck as River slapped the door once more and left after viciously insulting his probable ancestors. She probably could have forced the door, he mused absently. Maybe their crazy psychic was finally learning tact.

Her face swam into his vision and he groaned. Inara just couldn't get out of his head. He remembered her big eyes, shocked and betrayed, as she found him standing outside her shuttle that afternoon she'd been talking to Carl.

Mal was glad she'd turned him down, an angry sort of triumph.

But she wouldn't do so always, he realized, pained. One day she'd say yes. She marry the lucky bastard and that would be the end of it.

He dropped his head into his hands. Marriage. _That_ of all things, was where his thoughts had led. He was thinking marriage when he had insulted, humiliated, and hurt her for months. When she had already made it clear that she would never consider something like that.

The border moon that was their destination loomed ahead. Mal eased back on the throttle, deploying the reverse thrusters and disengaging the space drive. He inched his ship to the ground, landing it with a thump.

So he wasn't, perhaps, the world's best pilot.

Inara's face swam back into his thoughts. He groaned and rubbed at his eyes. Their ridiculous farce, this non-relationship of theirs. All the pain and want and anger and fighting and he still had nothing. _Nothing._

He stood up, almost automatically. There was no logic running through his mind, no justification, planning, or rationalization. He'd had enough of each of those. He passed River, sulking near the bridge, and continued on. He glanced around, looking for Inara, smiling as he noticed her by her shuttle.

Her shuttle.

* * *

It was enough, Inara decided. She was done with this mess. Just… done. She marched across the ship, unhesitatingly towards her shuttle. Odds were there was no bomb. She would play the odds. Recklessly, she unlatched the door and flung it halfway open.

Her things were exactly as she had left them three days before. She smiled.

Mal saw her reach for the door, saw the metal handle sliding back. He ran toward her, heart in his throat, suddenly more afraid than he could ever remember being. He ran into her from the side before she'd done more than glance into the shuttle, knocking both of them to the ground.

Inara hit the metal floor hard, knocking the air from her lungs. He gasped in pain as the half-healed hole in his side smashed into her hip bone. She stared at him wide-eyed, lips parted in surprise. Time seemed to pause.

Then shock quickly gave way to fury. She pushed him off her and stood up, a steady stream of insults streaming from her mouth.

A concussive boom shook the ship and a wave of fire and energy shot out of the shuttle. Inara was knocked off her feet again and thrown to the ground. Mal, still lying where he had first fallen, was protected from the majority of the blast. Ears ringing, he scrambled to his feet, rushing to where she lay like a broken doll.

He rolled her over, saw her pale face. A small gash near her hairline trickled blood down her cheek. But her eyes were open, wide and scared yet focused, looking directly at him.

He was dimly aware of his crew members appearing around him, and as the ringing in his ears subsided, he could hear their questions, their cries of concern. Reluctantly he let her go, hadn't noticed that he was cradling her in his arms.

"What the _hell_?" Zoe demanded.

"Peder," Mal managed.

Zoe poked her head into the shuttle, waving at the smoke still billowing out. "I can see that." She turned back to Mal and Inara, eying them somberly. "You're very lucky that this door was only partially open. The heavy metal absorbed a lot of the blast."

And indeed, part of the door was bowed outward, warped by the explosion. One wall of the shuttle had also been torn open, grey sky and pine trees visible beyond.

"And we're all lucky this didn't happen outside the atmosphere," Simon murmured quietly.

"Why did you open it?" Zoe demanded.

Inara blinked, still shocked, "I thought… after three days…"

Kaylee examined the shuttle with an expert eye. "Probly primed the bomb by closin' the door. Then when you opened it just now… _boom_," she mimed an explosion with her hands.

Mal looked at Inara, looked rather sick as he thought how close he'd come to losing her. Inara eyed the remains of her shuttled and took a deep, shuddering breath.

"You owe me a shuttle," Mal told her calmly.

She flushed, "Absolutely _not_!" she snapped, "This was _your _fault. You're the man with more enemies than friends!"

He shrugged, "You set off the bomb."

"You provoked the pyromaniac criminal!"

Zoe walked away, shaking her head.

"Well what'm I supposed to do without my shuttle?" he demanded.

"You? You're worried about yourself? Everything I own was just—" she gestured behind her.

"But now I only have the one!"

"Which you're going to rent out to me." She surprised herself with that demand, hadn't realized she planned on staying. The other members of the crew began to wander away.

"Then what'll I use?" he asked, almost whining.

"You'll deal with it."

"But you blew up my shuttle!" He sounded flabbergasted.

She was still sitting on the ground, she realized, and stumbled cautiously to her feet. Once standing, she swayed, slightly unsteady.

Without pausing to think of the consequences, Mal stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. Her breath caught in her throat, but after an uncomfortable moment, she accepted his embrace, leaning into his chest.

She was shaking, he discovered as she tucked her head into his shoulder. She wasn't used to such brushes with death.

He realized he was a complex mixture of terrified and infuriated. "You little fool," he hissed intensely, stepping back and holding her in place only a few inches away from him. "Doing something stupid like that. Did you ever think what it would have done to me if you'd died?" And he blinked, clamped his mouth shut, surprised at the intensity of his own feelings laid bare.

He could feel her warm breath on his cheek, saw her eyes widen at his words and then narrow into slits. Because, of course, she couldn't simply be pleased by his concern and affection for her. "You _ass_! You hypocritical, selfish—"

Mal didn't hear the rest of what she said, but his expression was so odd that she eventually stopped speaking.

"I'm going to kiss you now," he told her, and for a long moment she froze, then took a step back, stepping free of his touch.

He didn't look away. "Tell me you don't want me to."

She looked as unsure and confused as he'd ever seen her, but her voice was steady, "I don't want you to."

"Liar," he said calmly.

Grabbing both her wrists in one hand, he pushed her back against the wall and kissed her. After a moment, he dropped her hands and she put them on either side of his face, pulling him closer. Lost in each other, there was nothing else in the world that mattered.

Abruptly, Inara pulled back, ducked her head. "We can't," she said, "We can't."

"Why not?" he demanded, his fingers wound in her hair.

"I can't." She didn't answer, wouldn't look at him.

"Damn it, Inara," he muttered hoarsely. "Enough of this 'can't'. What do you _want_?"

She stared at him, her eyes big, a streak of blood drying at the edge of her cheek. Her hands were still cupped on either side of his face. "I…"

He leaned forward and kissed her again, fiercely.

Some time later, there was a knock somewhere behind them. He ignored it.

It sounded again, louder this time. Inara jerked her head back, pushing him away. Mal opened his eyes to see her flushing red, staring at a point behind his shoulder. He turned and winced.

Zoe.

"Maybe if you've finished," she said rather acidly, "You might considered captaining this ship. And Inara…" At this point she appeared distinctly uncomfortable, "River, uh, prepped the other shuttle if, you know…" She trailed off.

The other shuttle. Her clients. Her life. She was a Companion. She had nearly forgotten.

Inara glanced at Mal, shocked, but his face was blank, set. He hastily left.

"What do you think you're doing?" Zoe demanded coldly.

Inara stared blankly. He'd started it.

It was just that she didn't have the strength to end it.


	6. Chapter 6

_Done! Hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading._

* * *

Blue-green lights danced on the walls, giving the ballroom a rather aquatic feel. Couples swirled around the room, a flickering mass of silk, jewels, and status. Along one wall, dramatic ice sculptures depicting all manner of sea creatures dripped slowly, cooling long trays of chilled fruits and sweet.

As the lights glowed off her white satin gown, Inara knew she drew all eyes. The dress was designed for these lights, for this kind of party. Her escort reveled in the attention she drew him.

Scott. Or was it Samuel. Sa-… Sandal. Sandal, that was it. She flinched, an invisible motion in the dimly lit room. She was forgetting her client's name now. That didn't bode well.

Well, whatever-his-name-was was currently examining a sword with two other men, playing with the way the light reflected off the shimmering blade. He tried a trick, tried to flip it in the air and catch it again, but only succeeding in cutting himself. Bright blood blossomed on the sword edge.

Idiot.

Inara flinched again.

He hissed in pain, clutched his hand tightly in the other, rocking up and down on the balls of his feet. She felt no concern but stepped forward, sympathetically rubbing her hand up and down his arm until a man came with a first-aid kit.

The cut was long but shallow, she noted dispassionately. And, although she knew the fingers contained a significant amount of nerves and thus were especially susceptible to pain, she felt a flash of contempt for his carrying on.

And Mal's face flashed into her mind, covered in blood and sweat, clutching at her hand as if it were his last resource.

When he had recovered sufficiently—Sanel, his name was Sanel, she remembered after one of the other men had addressed him as such—they danced. The lights spun on the walls and reflected in glowing luminescent bursts upon her dress. Her hair was intricately braided and her makeup dark and bold, but nothing could compensate for the lack of deference she showed to Sanel.

Twice he had to repeat a question, and several times she mistimed a step in the dance. He was growing impatient, angry that her reputation had promised so much.

And she for her part could not care, could not break from her memories. The way he had looked at her, his hands in her hair, his lips on hers…

At that point, she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that she had to call this evening off.

Immediately.

* * *

"Mal!" snapped Zoe, "That's not an option."

"Not only is it an option, it's exactly the plan," he responded in a tone that would brook no opposition.

"It's a suicide mission," she hissed anyway.

He only glared at her contemptuously. She threw up her hands and stalked out of the bridge.

"Gorram son of a bitch!" she yelled, not caring if he or anyone else heard.

Kaylee, passing by with several other crew members, froze wide-eyed.

"Is everythin' alright?" she asked tremulously.

"No," she snapped back, earning herself a scowl from Simon.

Two days and three broken ribs later, Mal loaded the last of the cargo into the hold. He wiped his brow; it had taken him a good four hours to shift all the boxes by himself. Zoe was no longer on speaking terms with him, and the rest of the crew were busy avoiding the both of them.

He could have asked one of them for help, perhaps, but he was done with that. He may have lost her—he couldn't think the name but couldn't block out her face—but his pride was still left, still his.

He slid into the bridge, roughly shaking River from her catnap. "Let's go."

"What about Inara?" she asked without fear, despite the glare he turned on her.

"Shuttle's docked," he said flatly.

"Can't hear her."

"You think the shuttle piloted itself?" he asked, reaching to warm up the engines.

"They never swim but with fins."

He cocked his head to the side, "Now's not the time, River," he warned.

Her expression remained serene, "It's everything except what it is."

"We're leaving."

"Not leaving," and she'd crossed her arms threateningly.

Which was why, two minutes later, he found himself outside their remaining shuttle door. He smacked it hard with the flat of his hand. No response. He smacked it again. Nothing.

"Inara!" he shouted into the crack. Nothing.

Spitting mad, he left and returned with a crowbar, setting his shoulder into the work. The doors inched open, screeching in protest.

"Mal?" her cool, cultured voice with the exactly appropriate amount of surprise came through the crack between the doors.

He let the doors slam shut. He wanted nothing to do with her. As he began to stalk off, the door slid open. It was dark in her shuttle, and he could see nothing.

"Is everything alright?" she demanded, evidently wondering what might possess him to take a crowbar to his own ship.

"Just peachy," he snarled contemptuously, "Assuming the whoring went well," he turned to leave again.

"Like you wouldn't believe," she responded icily, stung.

And, rage and hurt boiling over, he turned back and snapped on the light in the shuttle, sick of her having control of the situation.

She instinctively winced at the light, flinching back, surprised. Her face was red and blotchy, tearstained, and she was clearly exhausted. She threw her hands up to hide her face, but too late.

Mal flinched too, flinched back from the tears on her cheeks and the pain in her expression.

"Go, Mal," she commanded dully.

He was suddenly, incredibly tired. Sick of life and her and himself. "Did he hurt you?" he asked wearily.

"Who? Oh—no, no," she shook her head unconvincingly. She had forgotten about Sanel anyway.

He grabbed her chin none-too-gently and turned her face into the light. What he'd thought might be shadow was a bruise blooming just beneath her cheekbone. Combined with the gash, courtesy of Peder, she looked much the worse for wear. She jerked her face away.

"Nothing," she snapped, suddenly unable to explain.

"You'll tell me."

"No," she said firmly, "I won't. And I'm more stubborn than even you."

He glared but she did not back down. "Did you at least black-mark him?"

She smiled weakly, "No, but I will if it will make you feel better."

He studied her for a long moment. "If you don't tell me what happened," he said finally, "I'm gonna go kill him."

She was wrong; he was more stubborn than even her. "You can't just go around killing people who annoy you, Mal," she fumed.

"Wanna bet?" His voice was stony.

She sighed heavily and turned away.

Mal stalked off, returning moments later with a sawed-off shotgun. Her doors were again shut. He pounded on them, "I _will_ get out the crowbar back out," he warned.

Inara opened the door, saw the shotgun, and sighed again. "You can't be serious."

He hefted it a little higher in response.

"I cancelled on him. He wasn't pleased. Now _go._"

"Why?"

"Did I cancel?"

He nodded.

"Get the hell out of my shuttle, Mal."

"The other was your shuttle. Technically this ain't part of the rental agreement."

"That's because explosions weren't covered in the contract."

He shrugged, a flicker of hope returning to his soul.

"What do you want?" she asked wanly.

"You," he said quite calmly, "For the rest of my life and yours, and even that might not be enough."

Inara stared at him, an emotion akin to desperation flashing across her features. Hesitating, she stepped forward and lifted a hand to his cheek, brushing her fingertips along it, lightly. She opened her mouth to speak, but a solid thump on the side of the hull sent a tremor throughout the ship.

He grinned, his blue eyes lighting up despite everything. "We never seem to catch a break, do we?" Leaning forward, he gently kissed her forehead and then ran to the engine room.

Astounded, she brought a uncertain hand to her face, touched her forehead where he'd kissed her. She couldn't force back the smile that slowly spread onto her face.

* * *

Mal sat beside River, watching the tiny girl dexterously pilot the ship out of certain danger. So maybe Zoe had been right and his plan had been fairly suicidal after all. Apparently their victims had found the ship responsible for their loss of merchandise.

How unfortunate that said ship happened to be his own.

Mal watched the screen like a hawk, scanning for the moment a control should fail or River should waver.

It didn't happen.

As they soared beyond the atmosphere, into the black beyond, River looked at him, barely scraping past some type of rocky satellite caught by the moon's gravitational pull. "They can always swim. It's like I said," and she'd winked.

"You're damn crazy, you know that?"

"So they say."

He settled into his seat, glancing back at the crew that had assembled behind them. They always seemed to make their way up to the bridge during emergencies, like moths to a flame. He resisted rolling his eyes; one well-placed laser or explosion could destroy them all. Slowly, they dispersed, Simon and Kaylee hand in hand, Jayne fingering the trigger guard of his firearm.

His gaze flicked over to Inara. She looked away as his eyes met hers, her cheeks turning red. She walked quickly away. He hid a smile at the memory of her shocked face, the astonishment in her expression as he'd kissed her forehead.

Funny girl. Kiss her on the lips and she didn't bat an eye; kiss her forehead and she fell all to pieces.

He wondered suddenly, and his smile faded, if any man had ever kissed her before without wanting something from it.

"Mal!" growled River under her breath, "Go think someplace else."

* * *

Zoe glared warningly at Mal as he stepped into the kitchen. He winced, having forgotten about their earlier fight.

"Look, uh, Zoe, I—"

She put up her hand and cut him off, "I don't wanna hear it. What I do want," she took a step closer to him, threatening, "is to spend these next few hours peacefully."

Puzzled, he rubbed his temples. Why couldn't women just say things plainly?

"In other words, be _civil_ for at least tonight. Or I will shoot you," she ended with an extremely matter-of-fact tone.

Zoe needn't have worried.

Kaylee was a forgiving soul, and neither Simon nor Jayne wanted to see any type of conflict continue. River retreated off into her own little world, and Zoe presided over the meal, watching Mal like a hawk.

Zoe couldn't decide if it was cute or nauseating, the way Mal and Inara kept trading glances. Her dark eyes watched him, glancing away whenever his gaze met her own. And so then he'd watch her for a while.

Part of it made her stomach twist, reminded her of everything she had lost.

Still, it was a peaceful meal, and the most enjoyable they'd spent in a long while.

Inara smiled into her cup of tea. There was nothing different really, between this meal and all the others she'd shared on board _Serenity. _The only change was in herself. She'd finally made her choice, she realized.

And she was at peace.

* * *

"Is that so?" Inara asked, eyebrow raised, biting back a smile.

"'S true," Mal answered with a wink, leaning back in his chair. "Course then they banished me permanently from Helios. Under pain of death or some such idiocy."

"Because that wasn't justified _at all_."

"Hey!" he demanded, mockingly indignant, "Whose side are you on anyway?"

She just smiled, rested her head on the back of her chair, and shut her eyes, soaking up the warmth of the sunlight that streamed through _Serenity's_ windshield. He stared at her, transfixed.

For the last week or so, he'd had the feeling that his world had been flipped upside down, or maybe it was the sensation that the gravity belt had given out in orbit and he was just… floating. Unsure of what was up or down but tethered, anchored in place by the woman at his side.

He frowned. She, however, seemed quite unperturbed and a little too calm. Like she had already settled into place, had mastered the game while he was still trying to figure out the rules. He wondered if it was a "woman" thing, or simply an "Inara" quality.

Mal remembered Zoe and Wash: probably it was a woman thing.

"I can feel you thinking," she murmured, tilting her head back a few inches so that she could look at him.

He looked into her eyes, suddenly losing his train of thought entirely. "Uh…"

Laughing, she sat up, "Must've been too difficult for you to sustain that level of intellectual activity for more than a few seconds."

He was about to retort with a suitably clever response—he just hadn't discovered one yet—when Kaylee flew through the open door.

"Please, Cap'n?" Kaylee smiled winningly.

He winced inwardly, knowing exactly what she was after. "No," he replied, "I wanna see you all rested up for tomorrow. Got a long week ahead of us."

"But—" she began, wounded.

"But what?" asked Zoe, joining the two of them in the cockpit.

"Cap'n won't let us leave _Serenity_!"

Zoe raised an eyebrow, "Is that so? I had intended on visiting an old friend."

"Simon an' me were gonna see the circus! I come up here t' ask him and he's all—" She screwed up her face into an ugly scowl and mimed Mal's posture.

Mal folded his arms across his chest, "I don' need someone gettin' into trouble on an Allied planet. 'Sides, like I told Kaylee, we got a busy week comin' up."

"_Captain_!" wailed Kaylee.

"What's going on?" asked Simon as he and River joined the others. River immediately began to poke at a unconnected joystick, flicking it back and forth.

He gritted his teeth at the prospect of explaining again. "It's final!"

"Scrooge," muttered River.

"Jus' for a little while?" pleaded Kaylee, "Simon already bought the tickets!"

"And how coulda he done that," Mal asked dangerously, "When I already said this morning not t' leave the ship?!"

She clamped her mouth shut, tears threatening. Mal threw up his hands and stalked off.

Inara sat still throughout the exchange, quietly evaluating the conversation. After he'd stormed off, she glanced up to find Zoe staring quite pointedly at her.

"_Oh_ no," Inara said firmly, though softly enough not to be heard by the others, "What makes you think I can do anything about it?"

Zoe smirked and dropped into Mal's recently vacated seat. "I've known him a long time. Long time," she emphasized. "I've never seen him so… stupid in love."

Inara, to her own surprise, blushed.

"And I've known you long enough to think that the same is probably true of you," she continued with a rather direct look.

Inara sighed, rose from her seat, and followed Mal to the kitchen.

"Don't look at me like that!" he demanded brusquely after one glimpse of her face.

Inara did not blink, her expression as smooth as ever.

"I'm not gonna change my mind!" he growled, pouring himself a cup of water with much more force than was necessary.

She pulled a chair out from the table and sat down in it, propping her elbows up and resting her chin on her hands.

He glanced up, saw her steadily watching him from the other side of the table. "No!" he snapped.

She smiled. He paled.

* * *

Mal marched back into the bridge, stepping around River who lay on the floor, still sulking. "Get off the ship," he snapped. "Be back by sunrise. And don't think I'll be cuttin' any one of you any sort of slack tomorrow morning."

They fled.

"Three cheers for Inara," muttered River as she darted past. The sound of their running feet faded into the distance.

He scowled, his temporary good mood deserting him. "You can't always be underminin' me in front of the crew," he snarled, knowing Inara was right behind him.

"You know full well there isn't any 'always' to it," she retorted, "You were just being unnecessarily obstinate today."

"If you keep doin' this, they'll—"

"They'll what? Mutiny? No longer respect your authority? That won't happen. You've got a good crew, Mal."

He turned away, signaling the end of the conversation.

She ignored that. "Mal…" she murmured.

He gritted his teeth at the way she said his name. Like he was upsetting her or something.

"Mal, I don't want to fight," she admitted, a peace offering.

"Yeah, well I do." That was a lie.

She walked up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Zoe has stuck it out with you for a long time. Probably," she continued mockingly, "because she doesn't respect you at all and is looking for the earliest opportunity to steal your ship away."

He glared at the wall in front of him.

"And Kaylee absolutely _adores _you. That's probably an act too. The moment you grant her any leeway, she'll definitely lose all respect."

He finally turned around, still sullen. "And you?" he demanded pointedly.

Inara looked at him evenly, her tone no longer teasing, "I," she murmured, "think I might be completely in love with you." Her heart beat in her throat, feeling as if she'd just played every card she had.

He blinked. Had he known that? Maybe. She'd said so before, once. But never to his face, standing so close, hands holding his. It was one thing to know it, but another thing entirely to make it real, to say it here and now and to understand everything she meant by those few words.

"Oh," he said unevenly, "I s'pose that makes it alright, then."

"You idiot," she smiled before he began to kiss her.

* * *

_Epilogue—Several months later_

"Mal!"

The voice hailed him in the midst of a bustling marketplace. Mal stopped, searching for its source, acutely aware of the stolen goods hidden in the folds of his large overcoat. Snow fell lightly, but not enough to obscure his surroundings.

"Hey, Mal!" He recognized the man with a hint of distaste.

"Antoine," he noted flatly. The man was a no-good boot licker, and his experience with higher education had only left him with an overinflated sense of his own self-worth. Inara was right, Mal realized with a twinge; he did have more enemies than friends.

"How's the crew gettin' along?"

"Good, good," Mal nodded his head rather sharply, not meeting the other's eyes. Just out of this man's line of sight, Zoe and Jayne lurked near the storefront of a large shop, fingers on the triggers of their concealed weapons.

Antoine leered a little, "And that Companion? Still traveling with the likes of you?"

"She's retired," he answered shortly. His eyes flitted around the marketplace, accidently meeting the gaze of a hard-eyed policeman who stood on the corner, watching Mal very directly.

"Oh?" the man noted with disappointment.

Mal's jaw tightened, both with distaste for Antoine and apprehension at the policeman's deliberate glare. Had he been made? The set of cutting-edge Alliance microchips that he currently had in his possession might be difficult to explain away. The high-frequency, universal Alliance communication devices wouldn't be any easier.

"She a permanent Companion now, that it? Found some rich squeeze on some ritzy little planet? Always knew she was too good for the likes of your ship."

And Mal remembered Atherton Wing, how the man had offered to contract out Inara permanently. To _contract_ her permanently. Least the man could have done was offer to marry her. With both that idea and anger still fresh in his mind, Mal snapped back, "As a matter of fact, she's getting married."

She just didn't know that part yet.

But as he said it, he knew it was true, and the warm, light feeling in his chest almost was enough to compensate for the contemptible creature standing in front of him and the second policeman who was now standing with his colleague on the corner, glaring at him.

"Ah, of course," Antoine waved his hand dismissively, "Some self-important statesman with a lot of dough. Enough to put her in pretty dresses until her own pretty face fades away and he can go buy another trophy for a wife."

Mal might have punched him, if not for the pink blur that flashed between the two of them and its accompanying shriek.

"No no no no no!" squealed Kaylee, darting around Mal and ducking behind him. Mal turned to see Inara racing towards him, followed closely by Simon and River.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Mal threw up his hands and took a step back. Kaylee moved with him, clinging to the back of his coat.

"Not fair!" called Inara, laughing, looking beyond Mal to where Kaylee cowered. Snowflakes had melted and beaded into water droplets on her dark blue coat and black hair, and her cheeks were red from the cold. Antoine eyed her with an expression that Mal very much disliked.

Simon suddenly hissed and grabbed at the back of his neck. River clapped her cold and wet hands together, laughing triumphantly as he scraped snow out of his coat. Mal took advantage of the moment to grab Inara's wrist, holding both her hand and the dripping snowball she held at arm's length.

"Careful now," Mal said, making eye contact with her, warning of the goods he smuggled underneath his coat, of Zoe and Jayne crouched in the shadows and waiting for his word, of the two policemen on the corner. "I didn't picture you for the snowball fight kind of girl." The slight emphasis he placed on the word _fight_ was, he hoped, enough to get her and the others away.

Inara seemed to catch the hint; there was a strange light in her eyes. "Who's your friend?" she asked, deliberately.

"Antoine, my dear lady," he stepped forward, simpering, "It is my pleasure to meet such a beautiful woman as yourself."

"Why, thank you," she replied pleasantly.

"Your captain seems to be misinformed," Antoine cast an innocent look at Mal, thrilled to call him out in the lie, "He said you were retired."

"Oh, but I am," she smiled.

"But the ship…?" he asked, evidently confused as to why she'd still choose to travel on the _Serenity _if it was no longer a business decision.

"What about it?"

"What will your new husband think of you journeying off in the black?"

"My—What?" she asked, covering her initial confusion with a neutral expression.

His gleeful smirk returned, "Well our dear captain seemed to think you were about to be married?"

Her breath caught. "Oh, yes. Yes I am."

Now Mal was the one barely breathing. He glanced around. Zoe and Jayne stood ramrod straight, not bothering to blend in, tension evident in their faces. There were now four policemen on the corner. Simon had pulled River back, away from the uneasy impression that seemed to surround Mal.

More than anything, Mal wanted to get Inara as far away as possible.

Antoine grinned lasciviously, "He a rich guy?"

Mal's panicked attempts to conjure an escape plan faded away. His eyes flashed to Inara.

She tilted her head to the side, not looking at Mal. There was a pause. "In more than money," she replied.

"Good-looking?"

"Extremely," she said with an amused twist of her lips. There was no pause that time.

"Kind?"

"Best man I know."

"Intelligent?" His forehead was furrowed and he was clearly displeased.

"_Brilliant_."

Antoine was rapidly losing steam. "Well, sounds like a great guy," he managed lamely.

"Oh, he is," Inara said sweetly, looking directly at Mal. She stepped forward and began to kiss him, left arm wrapping around the back of his neck to pull him closer to her and the other reaching under his overcoat, fingers closing on the flat metal container that housed the microchips.

Mal tried to pull back from her embrace, confused, but she only pulled him closer, kissed him more insistently. And he understood, burying his hands in her hair and returning her kiss until she had slipped every stolen item into her own pockets. Slowly, regretfully, he released his hold on her as she leaned back. Her eyes were bright as they looked into his.

Antoine gaped, jealous and uncomfortable. Passersby were shooting glances in their direction. The policemen watched with narrowed eyes.

With a wicked smile, Inara opened her left hand and dropped the remains of her snowball—now a slushy, drippy mess long forgotten by Mal—down the back of his coat. His mouth dropped open and he stiffened. As she backed up laughing, he whipped off his coat, shimmying dramatically to get the snow off his skin and shaking out his coat.

One policeman pointed with astonishment. After a few moments' hasty conference, they turned their glares on Inara.

Seemingly unperturbed, she linked her arm with Mal, tucking herself into his side. As they walked out of the market, she looked up at him and smiled. Except for Jayne and Zoe, the other crew members quickly exited through the other side of the market.

"Excuse me, Ma'am," the officer's voice was stony, and, as Inara glanced over his shoulder, his three colleagues appeared equally displeased. "Will you please remove your coat?"

Mal's heart stopped.

"Excuse _me_!" Inara snapped, outraged. "What is this?" She was making a scene, drawing others toward them. "It's the middle of winter!"

The man set his jaw, resolutely avoiding the curious looks of the other shoppers, "We believe you to be in possession of stolen goods."

"And who is making such ridiculous accusations?" she demanded.

"It doesn't matter. Ma'am, if you refuse to comply, I will be forced to take you into custody."

It didn't matter to Mal that he would be arrested with her. It mattered that it would be _his_ fault that she would be dumped in some disgusting jail cell, at the mercy of thugs and corrupt magistrates. It mattered that it would be _her_.

With dignity, Inara extricated her arm from Mal's and began to unbutton her long coat. "There," she took it off and waved the dark blue material in his face, "Does that satisfy you?" she demanded bad-temperedly. He grabbed it and rifled through the pockets as she shivered in her dress. Mal began to breathe again. He took off his own coat to offer her, but she refused.

A crowd began to form around them, drawn in equally by her beauty and anger. Silently, sullenly, the officer thrust the coat back at her. The four policemen stalked off, enduring insults from the crowd they left behind.

"What," demanded Zoe, "happened back there?"

Mal and Inara were the last to return, having gotten thoroughly distracted at one point during their trip back to the ship. They Zoe in the cargo hold the moment they arrived.

Inara looked at Mal, who shrugged. "I didn' plan any of that," he admitted.

Her eyes turned to Inara, who appeared slightly confused, "I thought that was what you were trying to tell me? You were hinting," she said to Mal.

"Yeah. 'Cause I wanted you to _leave._"

She waved away his comment, "I kissed Mal, hid whatever it was that you guys stole in my own coat, and then slipped it to Kaylee while Mal was making a fuss about the snow in his coat," she looked at Zoe. "That makes me an accessory to the crime. What was it I helped to steal?"

The corners of Zoe's lips twitched up, "Communications equipment. Small fortune on the black market."

"How's that funny?" Mal demanded.

"Nothin,'" said Zoe, shaking her head and climbing up the stairs, "I just appreciate how you two were so willing to sacrifice for the greater good," she mocked.

Inara met Mal's gaze and then glanced away.

"So…" he said, smirking, "What was this I hear? I'm… brilliant? Kind? Chivalrous and dashingly handsome?"

"Don't flatter yourself," she replied, but there was no sting in it.

He laughed, and she smiled at the sound.

"A better review than I got the last time."

"Shouldn't eavesdrop then."

"Kinda glad I did."

She rolled her eyes, and he reached out and held her hands in his.

"What changed your mind?" he asked.

She didn't say anything for a long time. He pulled her into his chest and she tucked her face into the hollow of his shoulder.

"Didn't change," she said finally, her voice muffled. "I just…"

"Realized ya couldn't live without me? Fell head over heels in love?"

"You're an ass," she muttered, face still hidden in his shoulder.

"Probly," he admitted. He stepped back and began to dance, leading her in lazy circles around the cargo bay.

"What kind of a dance is this?" she asked, amused.

"Pretty much jus' an excuse to stand this close to you."

"What now?" she said, suddenly very serious.

He stopped dancing, looked at her. "Do you want me to promise you a happily ever after?"

She shook her head. "Don't promise something you can't give."

"Then all I can promise you is that I love you," he said, and she smiled at the slightly awkward way he said it. He wasn't, she realized, used to saying those words, and her heart suddenly felt very light in her chest.

"Why're you laughing?" Mal demanded.

"I'm happy," Inara said, feeling as if she could quite easily spend this night, the next, and eternity right here, in his arms.


End file.
